


Drove Me Like a Magnet to the Sea

by WriterOfFictions



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Practical Magic AU, Slow Burn, Witch Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-16 08:49:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12339402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterOfFictions/pseuds/WriterOfFictions
Summary: Harry first heard of the Curse upon his family at age seven.The year his father left.This was also the year he, his older sister Gemma, and their mother Anna, moved to Wenham, Massachusetts to live with their Grandmother.Harry casts a True Love spell to fall in love with the perfect person, knowing such a person doesn’t exist.  And because such a person doesn’t exist, it means he can never fall in love. And if he can never fall in love, he never has to worry about the Curse.But what happens if the perfect person does exist? What then?Or, the Practical Magic AU No one asked for.Featuring Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Tom Glynn Carney, Fionn Whitehead, & the ladies of Little Mix.Also gratuitous nineties references, because this story takes place in 1998.





	1. Prologue

**October, 1977**

 

Harry first heard of the Curse upon his family at age seven.

The year his father left.

This was also the year he, his older sister Gemma, and their mother Anna, moved to Wenham, Massachusetts to live with their Grandmother.

It was a small town, Wenham. Both literally and figuratively. Population of less than five thousand people, and only eight square miles. But it was beautiful.

His Grandmother lived in an old house on Wenham Lake. Traditional white siding with black shutters. Three stories high. An Apothecary attached to the back of it. A backyard that stretched all the way down to the water. It was also well hidden, nestled in the woods from prying eyes. The perfect place for a young witch to grow and blossom.

In fact, many witches had, including both his mother and Grandmother. The house belonged to the Selley family for over a hundred years. The land it was built on, even longer. Harry and Gemma would now join the long list of Selley witches to learn their craft there.

That’s what their Grandmother told them one sunny Autumn afternoon while they had a tea party down by the lake. Their mother asleep in the house. She slept a lot in the months after their father left. Harry missed her.

He was excited to finally learn and practice magic, but also wished he could do something to help his mother.

One night after everyone was asleep, Harry snuck into the Apothecary, bringing only a flashlight, to search his Grandmother’s book of spells. He was determined there must be something in it to make his mother well again.

He’d tried other ways, but nothing worked. He made her toast with honey, one of her favorite snacks, but she wouldn’t eat. He drew her a bath, adding rose petals and essence of lavender to soothe her, but she wouldn’t get out of bed. He even asked his Grandmother to purchase the new Fleetwood Mac album, Rumours, because his mother loved them so. And would lay in bed with her while it played. She’d hold him then, almost afraid he too would leave.

Harry turned the flashlight on and quickly spotted his Grandmother’s book on the table in the center of the room. He pulled up one of the wooden stools and continued to shine the light on the book while he opened it.

After scanning several pages he let out an aggravated huff. The text was old. And though he could read some of it, some of it was also too difficult for him to understand. He felt tears prick at his eyes and sniffled.

The overhead light turned on, and Harry gasped. He looked over his shoulder and saw his Grandmother leaning against the doorframe. Arms crossed over her nightgown. She wasn’t angry though. This Harry knew. Not from the woman who allowed him to have cake for breakfast.

“Someone’s busy,” she hummed, pushing herself off of the old wood and entering the Apothecary.

Harry wiped his nose with his sleeve. “I miss her.” He shrugged.

His Grandmother nodded, a slight tremble in her lips. “Me too.” She pulled up another wooden stool and sat beside him. Her brown eyes were so soft when she gazed at him then. His mother looked so very much like her.

“I was hoping to find a spell to make her better.” He admitted, and, without much warning began to cry.

His Grandmother immediately took him in her arms, and rubbed his back. “You’re a sweet, sweet boy Harry. And, your mother loves you very, very much. But, her heart is broken, and I’m afraid there is no such spell in this book that can heal her.”

Harry remembered something then, something. his mother said the day after his father left. “Does it have to do with beetles?”

Harry felt a kiss on the top of his head while he tried to regulate his breathing.

His Grandmother loosened her hold and looked him in the eyes curiously. Contemplating. Eventually, “Yes. Yes it does.”

The tears had stopped, and he only hiccupped twice. He took a deep breath and blew it out through his mouth in a heavy exhale. “She said she heard them coming for him. What did she mean?”

This time it was his Grandmother who took a deep breath and blew it out her mouth. The two shared a small smile.

“Did you know Wenham was settled in the sixteen hundreds?”

Harry shook his head. He was also unsure of what this had to do with his mother and beetles. But he tried to be patient.

“Well the very first Selley witch was among those who settled it. Her name was Gillian. She had the gift of magic, just like you. But times were much, much different then. You had to hide your gift. And if you were found out, you paid the ultimate price.

Gillian fell in love. And sometimes love makes you do funny things. She told her love of her gift. And said they should run away together and get married. He promised her he would. She waited for him, and waited. Instead of hearing his footprints that night, she heard the crickets of a beetle. And her love? He never came. Fearing for her life if others should learn of her, she ran away. Heartbroken, and, unknowingly, with child. She ran away and began a new life here. Though her heart never truly healed. As her belly grew, she continued to cry to the moon each night. She vowed to never fall in love again, because love as she knew it, didn’t last.

Her gift, her magic, wild and uninhibited with hurt, cursed the unborn child. And every Selley witch thereafter. Love would never last for us. There would always be an end. And we’d know it was near when we heard the crickets of a beetle.

The beetle always comes.”

Harry saw the tears in her eyes before she tried to blink them away. “Did beetles come for Grandfather too?”

She nodded. Her voice wavered, “Yes, they came for him too.”

Harry wrapped his arms around his Grandmother and held on tight. She squeezed him right back.

“I love you,” he whispered into her dark, but greying hair.

She kissed his temple, “I know.” Another kiss to his forehead. “And I love you too. Very much.” With a snap of her fingers the book of spells closed. “What do you say I make us some hot chocolate and we try out that new VCR I bought for the television? I even got a movie to go with it. It’s called The Rescuers. We can find out if its any good.”

Belly full of hot chocolate. His head leaning against his Grandmother’s arm. Tucked beneath a blanket on the couch. It didn’t take long for Harry to fall asleep. The last thought he had before he slipped under was, he would never let the beetle come for his love.

 

 

**October, 1978 (One year later)**

 

The night of the Harvest Moon Harry neatly folded a piece of parchment he’d been working on, grabbed his flashlight, and snuck down into the Apothecary.

Once inside, he stepped up to the table, and opened his Grandmother’s book of spells. It was to the page for the one called, Amas Veritas. Harry gingerly placed his folded piece of parchment beside the book. He then immediately began to work.

The spell called for two teaspoons of jasmine flowers, one teaspoon of rose petals, a vanilla pod split lengthwise, and two crushed cinnamon sticks. He darted about plucking the necessary petals, placing them in a bowl, picking a vanilla pod, and grabbing two cinnamon sticks. After all was collected, he brought his ingredients to the table at the center. The moon watched over him as he continued to follow the instructions.

While he crushed the two cinnamon sticks in the mortar with the pestle, Gemma wandered in.

“What may I ask, are you up to?”

The question was playful, but Harry’s face heated at being caught.

He shrugged, “Just practicing.”

Gemma surveyed the table and raised a questioning brow. “True Love, huh?”

Harry focused back on the mortar and tested the consistency of the cinnamon dust. He replied without looking up, “For preventative measures.”

“Preventative measures,” Gemma echoed. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the Curse, would it?”

Harry near dropped the mortar. “Maybe.”

Gemma leaned her elbows on the table across from Harry. “I see.” She then spotted the piece of parchment, unfolded it, and began to read it aloud.

“Will hum my favorite song. Will be marvelously kind. Will have a compass that always points home?” She looked at Harry, perplexed.

He nodded and rattled off the rest of it, “Will have eyes blue like the sea, with a little green in them. Smile like sunshine. Heart of gold.”

Gemma returned the paper to the table. “Sounds too good to be true.”

“Exactly,” Harry checked the spell’s instructions before slicing the vanilla pod. “This person doesn’t exist. And, if they don’t exist, I can’t fall in love. And if I can’t fall in love, I’ll never have to worry about the beetles coming for them.”

Gemma sighed, rounding the table to where Harry stood. She wrapped her arms around him in a hug. “But don’t you think it might be better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?”

Harry thought about their mother. He’s grateful she’s smiling and laughing again, and joins in when they have tea parties by the lake. But. He’s not sure if he can forget the year of a sadness so deep she wouldn’t leave her room. And though she’s no longer holed up in there, she’s still not completely herself. It’s possible she never will be.

When Gemma let him go, Harry saw in her eyes she was unsure herself.

Neither mentioned it.

Harry shrugged, then silently got back to work. Gemma watched in what he thought was probably solidarity. He scraped the vanilla and added it to the cinnamon, mixing it in. Then he sprinkled the mixture atop the petals and gently swirled the bowl. Holding the bowl with one hand, he picked up the parchment with his other. And with a deep breath walked outside using the Apothecary's back door that led towards the lake, Gemma following in tow.

The moon was bright and full. It’s reflection dancing on the surface of the Wenham Lake below.

Harry stood where the grass met sand and placed the parchment to his chest, just over his heart. He closed his eyes reciting the list in his mind over and over. When he opened them, the petals began to shift and shake, eventually lifting and floating up and out of the bowl. They floated up past his eyes, and up towards the night sky. Up and up they went, until the bowl was completely empty.

Harry watched them float away until they were no longer in sight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Autumn, Harry always feels there’s a little more magic in the air. This year, especially so. His jasmine and roses are still blooming despite the approaching frost. He’s never seen them so full and so vibrant either. Must be something about the particular magic this year.

**October, 1998 (Twenty Years Later)**

 

One of Harry's regular customers, a woman named Jade, approaches the counter. The look on her face one of despair.

“Do you have anything for dry or sensitive skin?” She asks and scratches at her elbow.

Harry nods, and walks out from behind the counter. “We do.” He shows her to the salve section of his family’s quaint store, Blossoms & Blends. He selects one of the shiny gold tins and hands it to her with a wink, “Try a Little Tenderness.”

She smiles as she reads the tin, the name matching his suggestion. “Thank you.”

“Anything else I can assist you with today?”

Jade shakes her head with a smile, “No, I’m all set. Thanks.”

Harry rings her up, bagging the salve in the custom Blossoms & Blends paper bag, and then she’s on her way. The bell tinkling as she exits. 

The rest of the day carries on similarly for Harry. A few customers trickling in here. A little sweeping the floor there. Some twirling of his curls around his finger in between. Before he knows it, it’s closing time. Once the store is properly closed and locked down for the evening, he begins the walk home.

It’s early October, there’s a definite chill in the air. A crispness that only New England has during the Autumn season. He relishes in it while he traipses home, the light from the street lamps guiding the way. The leaves have turned. Many have fallen already. He can hear them crunching under his maroon velvet boots.

In Autumn, Harry always feels there’s a little more magic in the air. This year, especially so. His jasmine and roses are still blooming despite the approaching frost. He’s never seen them so full and so vibrant either. Must be something about the particular magic this year.

After a shortcut through the woods he arrives home. The old Selley homestead where he grew up. His Grandmother asked him to “look after it,” several years ago, shortly after she decided to travel the world with his mother. Which turned out to be the best possible thing for her.

Harry often receives postcards from his mother detailing the latest adventure. Sometimes he’ll find a package from her waiting on the front porch with a souvenir. Every once in awhile he’ll get a phone call. He likes the phone calls best. He can hear the happiness in her voice then. Though he misses her, as well as his Grandmother, living here helps him feel closer to them when they’re away.

Harry unlocks the door with a snap of his fingers and turns on the light in entryway in a similar fashion. When he closes the door behind him, he’s greeted by an adorably sweet black cat named Jet.  

He adopted her, and her slightly more fussy sister Frances, from the Northeast Animal Shelter in Salem. Gemma works there, and when the two arrived, she called Harry immediately. He remembers it was in late September a few years back. He had to fill out the adoption forms rather quickly because the shelter doesn’t allow the adoption of black cats during the month of October. For the cats’ safety.

Adding Jet and Frances into his life was undoubtedly one of his best decisions.

He looks looks down at Jet, and her amber eyes blink up at him. She rubs her side against his leg. He smiles and bends down to pick her up. She goes willingly, and when Harry pets her, she begins to purr.

“Hello darling. You hungry? Let’s get that started for you. Now, where is your sister Frances, hm?”

He walks into the kitchen and continues to pet her while her and Frances’ dinner prepares itself. When the dishes are placed back on the floor beside the fridge Harry gently puts Jet down. He watches briefly while she meanders over to her dish. Then notices the beeping of his answering machine. He takes the few steps towards the living room and sits down on the sofa while it begins to play.

A robotic voice informs him, “You have two messages. First unheard message.”

_“Hi, it’s your mother. Just calling to let you know we’ve safely made it to London. We can’t wait to see you soon for the Harvest. Also, to Jet and Frances, we love you! Bye for now!”_

As if on cue, Frances, who is nearly identical to Jet in appearance, save for her eyes, appears and jumps up onto the sofa. She finds Harry’s lap and begins kneading his thighs. “Well hello, Frances.” Harry coos despite the slight of pain. “How nice of you to take the time out of your busy day to see me.”

The answering machine beeps and then, “Next unheard message.”

He pets the top of Frances’ head softly while he listens.

_“Harry, Nialler here. If it’s around seven pm when you get this, the BYOB is open, so come over for some drinks with the boys!”_

A final beep.

Frances stops her kneading for a moment, her big blue eyes watching Harry. As if to say, “Well, what are you waiting for?”

Harry checks the time on his VCR player, it reads 7:03pm.

“You’re right,” he announces, giving Frances a gentle scratch under her chin. “I should go. You’ve got food in your dish, by the way.”

She hops off of him and slips into the kitchen.

Harry selects a bottle of red from the pantry and grabs a grey wool scarf from the coat rack.

As he leaves he calls out to his cats, “Don’t wait up for me!”

The BYOB is actually just his friends Tom and Fionn’s house. There are no bars in Wenham so they have sort of created their own. It’s been dubbed The BYOB, because, well, you have to bring your own booze. Fionn hates that the name stuck. But no one’s been able to come up with something better so. The BYOB it is.

Sometimes, of course, the group will venture out into the city, or neighboring towns. But often it’s a night in. It’s just easier. More convenient. No worries of having to choose a driver. In fact no driving at all is necessary to go to Tom and Fionn’s. It’s centrally located relative to everyone in the group, with only a five minute walk.

It’s a walk he’s gotten quite familiar with.

When he arrives, giving the front door a knock, it’s Niall who opens it.

“Harry’s here!” He shouts back into the house, as if they were expecting anyone else. He gives Harry a hug, and takes the proffered bottle from him. “And he’s brought us wine!" 

Harry closes the door behind him and enters, toeing off his boots. He unwinds his scarf, hanging it on the hook by the door.  He waves hello to everyone lounging in the living room, and notes Friends is on the television, but no one is watching it. By the time he ambles over to find a seat, Niall’s filling his hand with a glass of the wine he brought.

“Thanks,” he says. Niall’s ability to make alcohol appear is almost like a magic of its own. 

“You’re most welcome,” Niall gently taps his drink to Harry’s glass. “How’s your mom by the way?”

“Good.” Harry takes a sip of his wine. Niall always seems to ask Harry this shortly after he’s heard from her. “Just landed in London. She and my Grandmother will be home at the end of the month.”

“Ah, that’s right. The Harvest.” Niall nods in understanding.  

Harry affirms and then finds a spot on the plush navy couch next to Liam. Who seems to be droning on about something to Fionn. It sounds school related. Which would make sense, as both teach at Buker Elementary. And, now that school is back in session, it’s all they can seem to talk about. Harry usually likes to keep out of their discussions. Mainly because he never had formal schooling. He doesn’t understand how subjects such as Physical Education and Art can cause such headaches. They sound like they are supposed to be fun, but he’s been assured by both Liam and Fionn it’s not all kickball and rainbows.  

Fionn is nodding along, but Harry can tell he is apathetic towards Liam’s situation.

“I’m telling you. It’s only been a month, and already he’s acting like he owns the place.”

Harry nudges Liam. “Is some first grader giving you trouble?”

Fionn snorts.

Liam sighs and leans his back against the couch. He looks up forlornly at the ceiling. “I wish. No, it’s the new Kindergarten teacher. He’s driving me nuts.”

Tom strides in from the kitchen. A large tray in his oven-mitten covered hands, “Who’d like some nachos?” He places the tray on the coffee table, using the coasters as buffers.

They all cheer and dig in. Tom squeezes in on the couch between Liam and Harry.

“Hi there,” he smiles and pats Harry on the back. “Happy you came. All these two have been doing is griping about school.” He thumbs over his shoulder at Fionn and Liam. He turns and speaks directly to them, “You have so don’t deny it." 

Harry’s mid chew, with a string of cheese dangling from his lip, when he comes up with a quip. He plucks the cheese into his mouth and swallows. “How can anyone be griping when Friends is on?”

Tom reaches for a nacho of his own, “Yeah, Ross does that enough for everyone.”

The two high five.

“So,” Tom asks between bites, “have you picked a book yet?”

Tom’s the Children’s Librarian over at the Hamilton Wenham Library. He’s roped everyone in the group at one point or another to volunteer. Harry didn’t need persuading though, he was more than happy to help. He’s now been a permanent member of their Storytime program, where he reads to kids once a month. This year will be his fourth. 

Harry nods, excitedly. He enjoys it every month- but October is obviously his favorite. “Well. I thought I would start with one I just found called Room on the Broom.”

He tells Tom about how the book details the story of a kind witch and her cat, who invite other animals to join them for a ride on her broomstick.

“Sounds great!” Tom answers with more enthusiasm than is deserved, most likely. “I’m sure the kids will love it.”

Harry takes a sip from his wine, “I’ve got my hat, cape, and broom all polished and ready to go.”

They both share a laugh.

It feels good to be able to joke with his friends about what he is. They all know, and it’s fine. Normal, even. Times have changed since his mother and Grandmother were growing up here. For the better. Back then, there were always rumors, and folks whispering around town about the Selley family and their witchcraft. But no one ever asked them about it outright. They were probably too afraid. And his family never addressed them. 

But now, the fact that Harry and his family are witches is old news. It’s nice.

Fionn switches the television off and suggests they play a game.

“A drinking game, right?” Niall asks, already beginning to refill everyone’s beverages.

Fionn turns on the boombox sitting in the corner of the living room. “Of course.” He pops open the CD compartment, “What shall we listen to tonight?”

Harry raises his glass in cheers after Niall refills it, and shouts to no one’s surprise, “Rumours!”

Fionn rolls his eyes, “Let me try this again. Everyone except Harry, what shall we listen to tonight?”

Liam laughs, reaching across Tom to pat Harry’s thigh, “I always like when we listen to that album Harry.”

Harry extends his wine glass and taps it to Liam’s beer, “It’s a great album. You’ve got good taste.”

He knows Fionn is only teasing him. And, to be fair, they do humor him often by playing it.

Harry can’t help it, he really loves that album. His favorite song since he was seven is on that album. He doesn’t know why it’s his favorite. It just is. Somehow Songbird has woven itself into him. It’s practically a part of him now. Sometimes, after a particularly long or busy day at the shop, or if he’s feeling lonely, he’ll come home and draw a hot bath. Sprinkle some petals in it from the Apothecary, pour a glass of wine. Set up the record player on the top shelf in the bathroom.  Really treat himself. Then he’ll climb into the tub and just listen to it play until his fingers are pruny.

But instead of “Rumours,” _someone_ , put in “Stunt.”

Harry picks up the demolished tray of nachos to clear off the coffee table, and notices. “The Barenaked Ladies, Niall? Really?”

Niall shrugs. Harry purposefully brushes by Fionn, who’s grabbing a pack of UNO cards. “‘Stunt?’ Really Fionn?”

Niall laughs and waits for Fionn’s response. Fionn shrugs. “I’m sorry, One Week is a masterpiece.”

“Damn right!” Niall enthuses, but Harry’s already far away in the kitchen.

Eventually, they’re all settled around the coffee table on the floor playing UNO. The rules are as follows: Drink every time you are skipped. Drink every time someone reverses on you. Drink if you are made to draw cards. And everyone else drinks when someone uses a wild.  

The game, as is tradition, goes on for a long while. Liam at one point is a little too cocky and waves around his one card, boasting. But Fionn laughs and points at him, “You didn’t say uno! Drink and draw two cards, Payno.” In the end it was the quiet, unassuming Tom who won the game.

Shortly after Tom celebrates his victory, they all begin to attempt to tidy up. Well, to the best of their drunken abilities, not wanting to leave the burden on Tom and Fionn for the next day. Niall gathers up all of the empty bottles and puts them in the recycling and promptly passes out on the couch.

“Well Liam,” Harry gives Liam a hearty pat on the back, after loading up the dishwasher.  “Looks like it's just you and me walking home. You ready?”

Liam lives on Cedar Street, which Harry takes to get home. The two say their farewells, and mosey on out.

By the time Harry makes it to his bed, he’s so bone tired, he collapses on top of it. Clothes and all. Moments later he’s sound asleep.

 

*

 

On Saturday mornings Harry likes to enjoy a loose leaf tea at the Wenham Tea House. It’s a tradition he’s done since he was small. His mother used to take him and Gemma on weekends when their shop was closed. He’s tried every tea on the menu. Twice. His favorite choice of brew is their Crimson Berry. It’s served in a glass teapot which is particularly delightful.

This Saturday morning is no different. He slips on a pair of fitted overalls, with a long black sleeve shirt underneath. It’s early October still, so instead of a heavy coat he decides on a thick hunter green wool sweater. He dons a wide brimmed black hat, with black boots to match, checks for his wallet, and begins his weekly stroll across town.

As he makes his way, he can’t help but feel a little pep in his step. The sun is shining, causing a warm glow to radiate through the leaves still clinging to the trees. There are pumpkins decorating house window sills. Children jumping into piles of leaves their parents _just_ raked. Harry smiles, convinced more than ever this year there’s just a little more magic in the air.

He arrives, walking through the white picket fence and up to the front door. Admiring how they’ve decorated for the season. There’s a stuffed scarecrow sitting on a barrel of hay beside a pumpkin. The colors popping nicely against the quintessential New England white siding with black shutters.   

As Harry enters, he takes off his hat and runs his fingers through his hair. His shoulder length curls tousled from the walk. While the Tea House is historic as it boasts as the country’s very first, it’s quiet in the early mornings. It opens at nine and currently is only just quarter past.  It’s most likely patrons at this time are locals. He’s quickly greeted by a hostess named Perrie. Harry always enjoys their weekly banter.

She flashes a smile, “You’re a little late today.”

Harry laughs. “I was too busy admiring the display outside.”

She begins to show him to a table, “It was my idea to add the pumpkin.”

“You are a true innovator. I’ve always said that about you.”

Along the way he waves hello to an older couple who are regular customers at his shop, a Mr. and Mrs. Hallet. Harry makes a brief detour and asks if the lavender satchel Mrs. Hallet bought last week has helped with her sleeping. She takes his hand in hers and nods, “It has. Truly. I’ve been sleeping like a baby. Thank you.”

Harry brings his hat back up to his head, just to tip it, “You’re very welcome.”

They wish him a good day, and he takes his seat at a table for two by a window, placing his hat against the windowsill.  Perrie gives him a menu and asks if he’d like his usual tea to start.

“Please.”

Harry glances down at the menu after Perrie walks away, despite being convinced already he’s going to order the Quiche Du Jour. There’s no way he can pass up spinach and feta. When he looks up, that’s when he notices notices _him_.

There’s a man sat across from him three tables down at the opposite end of the room. Which, that in and of itself isn’t odd. Of course, there’s bound to be other people sitting, enjoying a delectable breakfast on this gorgeous Saturday morning. It’s just. Harry’s never seen him before. And Harry would know. He’d remember a face like this. There’s under five thousand people living in this town, and Harry’s lived here since he was seven. He’s seen, if not knows, just about everyone.

This man is quite possibly the most attractive human Harry’s ever laid eyes on. His face is all sharp angles with soft looking skin. His light brown hair appearing as though the wind has blown through it. His pink lips perfectly pursed in concentration. He’s reading that new book called Harry Potter, Tom was telling him about a month or so ago. Harry though, is decidedly distracted by how perfect this man’s wrists are. The man is wearing a cream cable knit sweater and the sleeves are ever so slightly rolled just past his wrists. Making them somehow manage to appear both strong and dainty simultaneously. Harry has never felt this overwhelmed from merely looking at another person before.

A flash of blue catches Harry’s gaze, and he realises belatedly he’s been staring. Also, and slightly more importantly, he’s been caught. His face flushes, and he hurriedly tries to lift his menu up to cover it.  But of course his fingers decide this exact moment is the moment to forget how to function. Three tries too many times later he succeeds.

A waitress named Jesy, arrives with his tea and sing-songs. “Here you are.”

She tilts her head a moment later, giving him a peculiar look. Admittedly, he probably does look quite silly cowering behind the menu.

“Have you decided, or do you need more time?”

Harry clears his throat, “The Quiche Du Jour please.”

Jesy nods and reaches for the menu. Harry’s grip tightens. He hadn’t anticipated this.

She raises a brow at him, “Everything all right?”

He loosens his fingers, but has still to let go. “Yeah, just. Peachy.”

She retracts the menu with a gentle tug, “All right then. Your breakfast will be out shortly.”

Then she walks away, taking with her his only place to hide.

Harry drums his fingers nervously and looks out the window. Hoping for a distraction. A woman walking a Boston Terrier puppy across the street passes by. It works for a moment. But only one. Harry finds himself sneaking another glance over at the handsome man three tables away. Apparently, he’s just finished taking a sip of his tea. From the kettle it would seem he’s gone with the Ginger Lemon. A great choice. Harry decides he’s been neglecting the Ginger Lemon and makes a note to order it for next week. 

Harry wishes he too had thought to bring something to read, or a coloring book and some crayons maybe. Anything to keep him busy. He’s about to start counting the window panes, when he realizes he hasn’t even poured himself a cup of tea. He hopes it hasn’t gone cold. While he readies himself a cup, he softly giggles, because he has never reacted to a person like this before. It’s both worrisome and mildly exhilarating. He lifts the cup to his lips and takes a sip. It’s perfect.

Thankfully, his quiche arrives before he actually has to start counting the window panes.

As Harry’s working on his last few bites, he notices the man has just paid for his meal and is ready to leave. Harry casually watches him from the corner of his eye as the man puts his coat on and tucks the book under his arm. A moment later, he’s out the door.

Harry swallows the last of his breakfast, and sees there’s a plaid scarf resting on the chair where the man had just been. He must have accidentally left it.

Harry’s heart rate quickens. The window of opportunity closing the longer he sits and stares at it.  Before he’s aware of what his body is doing he’s up out of his seat, hat on, and grabbing the scarf. He starts to make a run for the exit when Jesy calls to him, “Harry, you gotta pay first!”

So he hurriedly runs back to his table with a huff, reaching for his wallet.  He fumbles around and tosses down a twenty dollar bill. Then he calls out to her on his way out the door, “You can keep the change!”

Once outside he looks down the road to his left, but there’s no sign of him. Harry frantically turns to his right, and sure enough, there he is, about fifteen yards away.  Harry’s heart is pounding hard in his chest. He starts a jog to catch up to him.

“Excuse me,” he calls as he gets closer. “Sir?” He’s nearly there, “Excuse me. I’m sorry.” The man still isn’t responding. Harry reaches him and spots the headphones covering his ears. He’s about to gently tap him on the shoulder, when Harry realizes he’s humming a familiar tune.  It hits it right in the chest. Well, Harry’s not sure if it’s because of the song, or if because he’s winded.

But in any case, it’s not just any song. It’s his favorite song. Harry subconsciously inches closer, the man only a hair’s breadth in front of him. His humming is quite possibly the sweetest sound Harry’s ever heard.

Suddenly Harry feels a sharp pain in his nose from colliding with something hard. He takes a dizzying step back. The free hand not holding the scarf is clutching at his nose. He stares in horror as it dawns on him what just happened.

The man then turns around, concern written on his face.  He immediately pulls his headphones off, resting them around his neck. “Oh my god. I am so sorry.”

Harry stands there. Silent. Frozen to the spot with embarrassment.

The man speaks again, taking a careful step forward. “Are you okay? I didn’t realize- wait.” His eyes travel to the bit of plaid in Harry’s fist, and his hands fly up around his own neck. “My scarf! Oh my god.” He’s laughing now. His eyes are crinkling in the corners. His smile is blinding. Like staring into the sun.

Harry’s melting. He feels his own face crack a small smile, despite himself. He rubs his nose twice and then drops his hand by his side.

The man rambles on, “How embarrassing. Here you are. Just trying to be a good person, returning my scarf, and I was too busy listening on my walkman.” He reaches into his coat pocket and lifts the walkman for emphasis.

“It’s okay.” Harry finally manages. “Really. Not a problem.” He hands the scarf back to it’s rightful owner, who gratefully accepts.

Harry clasps his hands behind his back and rolls up on his toes once. “Whatcha got in there anyways?”  He eyes the walkman, though he thinks he already knows the answer.

“Rumours.” The man confirms.

Harry smiles. “It’s a classic.”

The two stare at each other for a moment. Eyes curious. Something about him seems familiar, but Harry can’t place what it is, or why. From the way the man is mirroring Harry’s expression, Harry guesses he’s not alone.

Harry blinks himself out of his thoughts. “Well, I have to…” he trails, not able to formulate more than that. He thumbs behind himself instead, and the man just nods.

“Yeah, me too,” the man agrees. “Thanks for returning this.” He holds up the scarf. “And I’m sorry about your nose. But uh, I’ll see you around?”

Harry nods, which causes the man to smile again. Harry really likes his smile. Then the man spins back around and continues on his way.

Harry does an about face as well, with one hand on his hat, and the other holding his rapidly beating heart.

He definitely wants to see that man again, which means he absolutely should not see that man again.

*** 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Three will be posted next Friday.
> 
> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it so far!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry learns life has a funny, funny way, of helping him out.

Wednesday turns out to be a particularly slow day at the shop.

Harry figures he should try to make the most of it by using this time to restock. He made several new types of loose herb satchels the other night, feeling oddly inspired for a Monday. He thinks it’s best not to question it. So he puts the store’s boombox on the service counter, plays some Alanis Morissette, and begins to add the new satchels to his display.

When he’s finished with restocking, he moves on to dust the shelves. He spends only a moment regretting wearing his black jeans. Then he sweeps. Then wipes down the counters and windows. He restarts “Jagged Little Pill” from the beginning when it eventually ends, and continues his cleaning.

By the time “You Learn” comes on, for a second go around, Harry’s moved on to mopping the hardwood floor. Gripping the handle of the mop with both hands, the sleeves of his over-sized burnt orange sweater rolled up his arms, and his hair up in a bun atop his head, he dips the mop into the bucket of water.

When he wrings it out, he begins to dance and twirl with it along the floors. Sometimes releasing the mop and having it copy his movements, like a synchronized dance. At one point he’s so immersed into the song, he grabs the mop and sings into it, belting “ _the fire trucks are coming up around the bend!”_

And that’s when the door to his shop opens. He doesn’t hear this however, as the bell is muted against the sound of Alanis, and himself, wailing away.

It’s not until Harry does another twirl, and dips his dance partner, that he sees a pair of brown boots with fitted navy corduroy pants in his periphery. He quickly glances up and meets a pair of blue eyes he recognizes from the other morning at the Tea House. The eyes are filled with amusement. Harry nearly drops the mop.

“Please, don’t stop on my account.”

Harry knows he’s blushing, heat reaching the apples of his cheeks. He straightens himself and scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry, anymore and I’d have to charge you.”

“An arm and a leg I’d imagine.”

Harry grips the mop and leans on it, trying to suppress a smile. “Yeah, more or less.”

“I’m Louis, by the way.” He extends his hand. “Don’t think we officially met last time.”

Harry takes his hand and shakes it once before letting go. “No, I don’t think we did. I’m Harry.”

Louis smiles. “It’s nice to meet you, Harry.”

“You as well.” Harry picks up the bucket, and carries it and the mop carefully back over to the service counter. The first notes of Head Over Feet sound through the speakers, and Harry subconsciously turns down the volume. “Is there anything I can help you with today?”

“I hope so,” Louis starts, “I’m looking for some loose leaf tea. My neighbor said this was the place to go.”

Harry feels impossibly flattered, and generally that makes him act a little silly. He places his hands on his hips and says, “While we here at Blossoms & Blends cannot boast of having the largest selection in town. I can attest the product is made locally and organically. At a great price to boot!”

He quickly shows Louis to the corner where they’re displayed.

As they walk Louis asks, “Do you, guaran- _tea_ it?”

A singular, and embarrassingly loud, cackle escapes Harry’s mouth. Immediately he covers said treacherous mouth with both of his hands. He has truly never made that noise before.

Louis turns at the sound, eyes wide with surprise. “Really? I wasn’t sure that one was going to land.” He chuckles softly. “You must be an easy laugh.”

Harry blushes for the second time. He drops his hands and whines, “Hey,” drawing the word out.

Louis lifts his hands in defence, voice playful. “It’s a compliment. It’s a comedian’s dream.”

This appeases Harry. “Well, I’ll let you to it.” He waves his hand in the general area of the shelves. “Let me know if you need help with anything else.”

Harry takes the several steps necessary to reach the service counter and pretends to busy himself behind it. When in reality, he’s sneaking glances at Louis every few moments or so. Harry doesn’t know what it is, but he feels like his eyes are just drawn to him. Constantly being pulled his way. He knows it’s silly. And possibly, no _definitely_ , creepy as well.

When Louis makes his way over to the counter, Harry forces himself to wait a moment or three before looking up. He caves after two. “Find everything all right?”

Louis lifts his right hand, and Harry sees he’s chosen three different teas.

“I’m kind of excited to try this Pear Ginger one.”

Harry almost remarks on how it seems he tends to favor Ginger flavored blends. But thankfully doesn’t. What he says instead is, “Well, you’ll have to let me know what you think when you do.”

Louis reaches the counter, places the teas on it, and taps it with his hands. “Deal.”

In a moment of weakness, Harry only charges him for the other two. “This one’s on the house.”

Louis tilts his head. “Really?”

Harry nods, and blinks his eyes more than he feels he normally would. “Yeah. Like a free sample. Or as a, uhm, courtesy tea for trusting your neighbor’s referral to the shop.”

Louis’ smiles again. “Thank you.”

Harry thinks he could become addicted to seeing that smile. To making it appear on that face. To being the cause for it. “You’re most welcome.”

Louis waves goodbye on his way out of the shop. Harry returns it, and waits until Louis walks past the storefront windows before folding his arms on the counter top and dropping his head atop them. He takes a deep breath.

Alanis sings quietly, “ _Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you. Life has a funny way of helping you out, helping you out.”_

 

*

  

On Friday Harry decides to ride his bike to work. It’s pale pink, with a white seat, and a woven basket up front. Vintage too. Harry picked it up at a yard sale several summers ago. It’s come in quite handy.

He wants to stop by the library before heading home, as he has a book to return. Also, maybe to finally enquire about this Harry Potter business. On two separate occasions, from two separate customers, who regularly frequent the shop, they asked if he'd read it. Apparently it’s about a witch named Harry. Or wizard, rather, as they call it.

So after work he hops on his bike and arrives at the Hamilton Wenham Library about ten minutes later.

He grabs the book from his basket and tucks it under his arm. A woman with long braids wrapped in a bun on top of her head, with dark skin, and brown eyes smiles at him when he approaches the desk.

“Hello Leigh-Anne,” Harry greets her, smiling back. He places Fried Green Tomatoes on the desk. “I’m here to return a book I borrowed.”

Leigh-Anne snorts, “You don’t have to say that every time.” She stamps the inside flap, marking its return. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Enjoy it? I loved it. Idgie is an inspiration. Also, calling someone a Bee Charmer is now officially the most romantic term of endearment.”

Leigh-Anne chuckles knowingly. “Have you seen the movie?”

Harry audibly gasps. “There’s a movie?”

“Yep! We have it. Let me check if it’s here.”

Harry watches her type on the computer.

Leigh-Anne looks up at Harry. “It is! Want to borrow it?”

“I would! Also. While I’m here, you wouldn’t happen to have Harry Potter as well, would you?”

Leigh-Anne doesn’t even check the computer before she’s shaking her head no. “There’s a waiting list for that one. Want me to add your name to it?”

“Please.”

She does. Then says she’ll be right back with the movie.

While he’s waiting, Tom walks by, arm full of books. “Hey Harry. You still coming over for drinks tonight? Fionn called not that long ago and said Niall’s already there, so you could probably head right over.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Probably going to stop by home first and freshen up a bit.” He pinches his sweater and gives it a sniff. Definitely going to freshen up a bit.

Leigh-Anne returns, and Tom nods. “Perfect. I’ll see you there then.”

“You’re all set, Harry.” Leigh-Anne hands him the movie. “Enjoy. We’ll call you when it’s your turn for Harry Potter.”

He rides his bike home and immediately heads for the bathroom on the second floor. He strips and takes a quick shower.

Once dressed, he feeds the cats, and tells them he’s got a movie for the three of them to watch sometime in the next two weeks. They seem more interested in their food. And, that’s fair, Harry thinks.

His hair is still damp at the ends when he leaves for Tom and Fionn’s, not bothering styling it. He’s sporting an all black ensemble, save for his jacket. He’s got a black tank top on under a oversized mesh sweater that reaches down to his thighs, and a black pair of stirrup leggings tucked into some black combat boots. He’s carrying a bottle of white wine tonight. Pinot Grigio.

As he arrives, Liam pulls up in his car. Parking it in front of the house. Harry raises a brow when Liam exits and closes the door behind him. “Where are you coming from? Your house is that-a-way.” Harry thumbs in the exact opposite direction from where Liam came. “Also, you’re very well dressed for an evening at the BYOB.” He widens his eyes and cracks a smile as realization dawns on him. “You went on a date!”

Liam goes to the trunk of his car and pulls out a case of beer, laughing. “Sometimes it’s annoying how observant you are.”

Harry waits for him. “So.” He waves his hand hoping to convey he wants to know more.

“So. I might have met someone, though it’s probably too soon to tell. She is really lovely though.”

“And,” Harry presses, though he knows from past experiences, Liam isn’t going to tell him much.

Liam laughs. “And, we went on a date tonight. Probably going to call her again this weekend.”

Harry pats Liam on the back. “That’s wonderful Liam! I’m happy for you.” He hates that Liam feels like he shouldn’t tell Harry about these things. “Keep me posted.” He means it.

Liam frowns. Harry also hates when Liam frowns. He looks like a dejected puppy and Harry can’t have that. “Oh turn that frown upside down, Liam.”

The two start walking up the front steps. Liam turning to face Harry. “I just want you to meet someone, too. You know?”

Harry does know. Out of all his friends, Liam has always been the most vocal about wanting to find a way to break his family’s curse. He even asked Harry about it outright the very day they met. Ten year old Niall and Liam were stalking through the woods by the lake, very much trespassing, while Harry was by the water. He heard the two voices and went to tell them off for it. But, just as Niall had charmed Liam into trespassing, Niall charmed Harry into becoming friends. They sat by the water skipping rocks together for a while, and that’s when Liam asked if the curse he’d heard about on Harry’s family was real. And if there was a way to break it.

Harry told him it was. As to the second question, he didn’t know the answer then. He still doesn’t know the answer now. But he can’t fall in love so it doesn’t matter. It’s a moot point.

Just then, Fionn opens the door. “Hi guys. Saw you from the window. Thought maybe you forgot how to knock.”

“Ha. Ha.” Harry pinches Fionn’s cheek, and Fionn bats his hand away.

Niall’s voice booms from the living room, though Harry’s not entirely sure who he’s talking to. He takes off his shoes and coat and makes his way inside. When he steps into the living room the conversation stops. Niall and Louis both look over and smile. And Harry can’t help the smile he can feel forming on his own face. “Hi,” he offers, a little dazedly.

“Harry, you’ve met my neighbor, Louis.” Niall says in lieu of an introduction and takes a sip of his drink.

That bastard. He’s looking at Harry like he knows he gave Louis tea for free. “I have.” He turns to Louis, while still cradling his bottle of wine. “Nice to see you again.”

“Likewise.” Louis answers.

Niall says something, but Harry is momentarily distracted by the way Louis fixes his fringe. “Sorry, what?”

Niall huffs dramatically. “I said, I heard Louis walked in on you in a compromising position with a mop the other day.” Then he winks.

Harry rolls his eyes and aims for mildly annoyed, though the heat traveling to his face betrays him. “I’m going to go put this in the kitchen now.” He spins around to see Liam enter the living room. Both Niall and Louis greet him, but Liam suddenly looks actually annoyed.

Harry doesn’t have time to ask why the sour puss. He needs a drink. Fast, preferably. He strides into the kitchen, and pulls a wine glass out of the cabinet. Niall’s clearly heard the whole ordeal from the shop on Wednesday. He wonders if Niall’s also heard about the incident at the Wenham Tea House. Oh god. Why is Harry so embarrassing? He’s digging around in one of the drawers for the wine opener when Liam wanders in.

Liam places his case of beer on the counter and leans against it, arms crossed. He heaves a sigh. “Remember how I said the new kindergarten teacher is driving me nuts?”

Harry remembers. “I do.” He’s finally got the wine open and pours himself a full glass. He takes a sip.

“Well, he’s here.”

Harry swallows. “Oh. Niall’s neighbor, Louis?” Harry tries to act nonchalant. He’s sure he’s missing the mark, though he doubts Liam notices.

Liam interrupts his thoughts.

“That’s the one.”

Harry has three large sips from his glass, then refills it. “He doesn’t seem so bad.” Harry tries.

Liam selects a beer from his case and opens it looking unconvinced.

“Plus,” Harry adds, “Niall likes him. So he can’t be terrible.”

“Niall likes everyone.”

That is mostly true. Harry’s about to say as much, but Liam realizes his mistake and corrects himself before Harry can.

“Well, almost everyone.”

Harry has another sip of his wine. “And he wasn’t subtle about his dislike either.”

A flash of guilt crosses Liam’s face. “No. He wasn’t.”

But Harry doesn’t want to talk about Matty. He’s in the past, where he belongs. And Harry’s in the present. Happy, healthy, and smarter than he was three years ago. “All I’m saying is, Niall knows a bad egg when he sees one.” Harry shrugs. “Maybe give Louis a chance.” He walks by Liam, and pats him on the shoulder.

“You’re right.” Liam tells him with a sigh.

Harry enters the living room, and immediately finds Louis laughing at something Fionn has said. His heart pounds and he briefly wonders if maybe he shouldn’t listen to his own advice.

His feet take him over to the far side of the room, where Fionn and Louis are stood. When he arrives, Fionn mumbles something about frozen pizzas and disappears. Leaving Harry and Louis to themselves.

Louis takes a sip of his beer. “Sorry, about earlier.”

Harry tilts his head, unsure of what he’s referencing.

“About what Niall said earlier. I didn’t know he’d bring it up.”

Harry shakes his head. “It's okay. If I had to apologize to someone every time Niall said something embarrassing, I’d never get any sleep.”

This makes Louis laugh, though he hides it into the back of his hand. Harry finds it completely endearing.

“So,” Harry starts, to distract himself from how Louis’ green crew neck sweatshirt sleeves cover his knuckles, “What brought you to Wenham?”

Louis takes another sip. “I was living out in the Berkshires, but wanted to move closer to Boston. Well, I wanted to move closer to my mom and sisters, they’re in Concord.”

Harry nods. He thinks that’s the sweetest thing, but doesn’t say it. “How many sisters do you have?”

Louis smiles, eyes lighting up. “Four. All younger.”

They continue on like that until their drinks are empty. Harry learning Louis’ mother is a nurse at Emerson Hospital in the maternity ward, and when Louis was younger he used to want to be a nurse just like her.

“Sometimes I’d visit her after school and bring her dinner. On those days I’d also spend some time at the window making the babies smile and laugh while they waited for their parents to bring them home. Couldn’t help it.”

“Is that what got you into teaching?” It dawns on Harry only after he’s asked, that Louis never actually said what he does for work.

Louis face is one of bemusement. Harry explains. “Liam. He mentioned you were the new kindergarten teacher.”

At this, Louis smirks. “Did he now?”

Harry nods glancing down at his empty wine glass. “Another drink?” The two meander into the kitchen. Harry pours himself another glass of wine, while Louis grabs another beer from the fridge.

He opens it and asks. “And, what else has Liam mentioned?” He takes a sip of his drink, smiling around the bottle.

Harry giggles uncomfortably into his wine.

He is spared, however, for the moment. Tom arrives home just then, apparently bringing with him frozen pizzas. He hears Fionn tell him, sounding relieved, “Oh good. They gave you my message.”

Fionn enters the kitchen, holding three boxes, and sees Harry and Louis standing there.

“Would you two mind popping these into the oven?”

Harry places a hand over his heart. “We would be honored.”

Fionn drops the pizzas on the counter, calls Harry a weirdo, and leaves. Harry picks up a box to read the instructions.

Louis is leaning on the counter next to the oven, when Harry steps up in front of it to set it up to begin preheating. Harry senses Louis watching him while he does so.

“You actually preheat the oven huh?”

Harry snorts. “Yes. I take it you don’t.”

Louis shakes his head. “Nope.”

“How does that usually work out for you?” He bites down on a smile while he crosses back to his spot to lean on the opposite counter from Louis.

“Honestly? It’s a gamble.”

When the pizzas are finished, Harry sends Louis out to alert everyone while he slices them up. Louis comes back in and Harry offers him a plate, with one slice cheese, one slice pepperoni. “I didn’t know what you liked. So I went with one of each.”

Louis thanks him. “It’s perfect.”

Harry takes his own plate and the two mosey out of the kitchen with their pizza and drinks to make room for the others to grab some dinner. They find a seat on the couch, and that’s when Louis mentions he hasn’t been to Salem yet.

“I’ve lived here for a month and still haven’t been. It’s not far from here, right?”

Harry chews and swallows. “No, it’s about a twenty minute drive. But since it’s October I wouldn’t suggest driving there. It’s total madness.”

“Really?”

Harry nods. “Yeah. It’s the Halloween capital of the world. My sister lives there. She says she has had to take Halloween off from work because she literally can’t get there due to all the traffic.”

Louis deflates a little. “I was hoping to go sometime this month. See what all the fuss is about.”

Just then Niall walks in. “Go where?”

“Salem.” Harry answers.

Niall visibly shivers. “I try to avoid Salem this time of year.”

Fionn, Tom, and Liam filter back into the living room as well. Sitting around the coffee table.

“What do you try to avoid?” Tom asks.

Niall washes down his bite of pizza with his beer. “Salem.”

The others all nod in affirmation, agreeing. Harry furrows his brow, not appreciating everyone’s jaded attitude when Louis is clearly excited. He has a thought. He turns in his spot on the couch to face Louis. Their knees almost touching.

“If you wanted to go, the best way would be to take the commuter rail. There’s a Hamilton-Wenham stop about a ten, fifteen minute drive from here. We could go one weekend. It would be fun!”

At this, Louis brightens, giving Harry a smile. “Yeah, that would be amazing.”

Harry poses this idea to the rest of the group. Niall turns it down. “Sorry, it’s a little too claustrophobic there for me this time of year.”

The others all follow suit, giving some sort of excuse not to go.

Harry sighs, facing Louis, “Sorry, looks like it's just going to have to be you and me.”

Louis sighs, “Ugh, I suppose you’ll just have to do.”

Harry snorts into his wine. He wonders if his eyes are playing tricks on him, if he really sees a tinge of pink begin to dust Louis’ cheeks, but then Louis is fixing his fringe, blocking his face from view. Harry tries not to think too much about it.

After they eat, they decide to watch a movie. Liam suggests The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Louis seconds the idea. “Which one’s your favorite?”

Liam appears surprised by this, but pleasantly so. “Leonardo, probably. What about you?”

“Probably Raphael.”

The both of them share a knowing laugh, and Harry smiles to himself. Of course. The two turtles who bump heads the most- but at the end of the day always manage to work their differences out. There might be hope for the two after all.

Throughout the film, Harry is overtly aware each and every time Louis laughs and his knee bumps against Harry’s. It’s more than mildly distracting. Harry can’t even focus on the Turtles taking down the Foot Clan. His brain constantly wondering when the next time Louis’ knee will make contact with his instead.

When the movie ends, they all gather up the discarded bottles, and empty plates, loading up the recycling bin and dish washer. Harry’s the last one in the kitchen, the others saying their goodnights in the living room.

Louis pokes his head in. “There you are.”

Harry starts the dishwasher and takes a few steps closer to Louis. “Here I am.”

Louis waves a pen, handing it to Harry. He pushes up his left sleeve. “Can you write your number? So we can plan that Salem trip.”

Harry swallows and nods. “Yeah. Sure. Of course.” The presentation of Louis’ skin making him a little dumb. Harry uncaps the pen with his mouth, while Louis holds his arm out to him. Harry wraps his hand around Louis’ wrist, gently cupping it, to hold him steady. Then he brings the pen down to touch smooth skin.

There’s a moment where Harry panics he’s forgotten his own phone number. He’s so caught up in the feel of the press of ink on skin. That he’s the one putting it there. Luckily his brain supplies him with the information in the nick of time, and in a moment it’s over. He caps the pen again and hands it back to Louis. “You’re not gonna leave me waiting by the phone are you?”

Louis shakes his head, laughing. “No. I won’t. Promise.”

Harry nods. “Good.”

 

A little while later, Liam responsibly abandons his car for the night, choosing instead to walk home alongside Harry down Cedar Street.

Leaves crunch beneath their boots, and the sound reminds Harry just how much he loves this time of year. He says so aloud, spreading his arms out wide, accidentally smacking Liam in the chest. “I just love this time of year!”

“Ow,” Liam complains, though he’s giggling.

After a few moments of quiet Liam nudges Harry. “I think maybe you were right.”

Harry generally feels he’s right about a number of things. “Probably. About what?”

“Maybe I should give Louis a chance.”

“That’s the spirit Liam!” Harry cheers. Alcohol makes him silly, and it definitely has nothing to do with giving his number to a pretty boy tonight. Nope.

His heart beats loudly as if in defiance of his own thoughts. Something about the thrumming of it tells him maybe he should take his own advice and give Louis a chance, too.

 

*** 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Four will be posted next Friday. Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Harry walks away and turns down an aisle he tells himself he’s just being kind. Neighborly even. That Louis is new to town, and Harry’s only trying to be welcoming. Friendly.
> 
> His heart knows he’s a damn liar.

Saturday when Harry returns home from the Wenham Tea house, he hears the familiar beep of his answering machine. He stares at the red blinking light, a flicker of hope beating in his chest, and then presses play.

 _“Hi Harry. It’s Louis. Uhm, hope you’re enjoying your Saturday. I just wanted to give you a call so you have my number as well. I promised I wouldn’t leave you waiting._ ”

He bites down on a smile when Louis rattles off his phone number. Harry twitches his fingers, causing a pen and paper to appear from the kitchen. Harry replays the message so the pen can write the numbers down, then plays it one more time just to make sure it’s got it. When the message ends, he grabs the paper from mid air and looks it over. Running his fingers over where the pen had scribbled Louis, dotting the “i” with a heart. He glances over at the pen, briefly staring at it accusingly. “Well it appears someone took liberties with their assignment.”

Harry gives a wave of his hand, and the pen disappears back into the kitchen. Harry follows shortly behind, hearing the thump of the drawer close as he enters. He chooses one of the many magnets from his mother and Grandmother’s travels covering the fridge to stick the paper to it. This one a beach scene from Nassau in the Bahamas.

He’s unsure of whether he’s supposed to call Louis back or not. Louis didn’t ask him to, but Harry’s not sure if it was implied he should? Jet wanders into the kitchen, and Harry looks to her for advice. She blinks up at him innocently. He sighs. “Where’s Franny? She’d tell me what to do.”

With Frances nowhere in sight, Harry decides he’ll call Louis later, after he’s filled some satchels with lavender. When he finishes the satchels he remembers he’s low on salves in the shop. He begins to heat up some beeswax and gets the tins ready. When the salves are done, he is then is hit with the sudden urge to use up the abundance of jasmine and roses to make some essential oils. Once the oils are bottled, he boxes them up, adding the satchels and salves. After he places the boxes by the front door, he notices the sun is now hanging low in the sky.

His stomach grumbles.

Harry ambles on over into the kitchen and scopes out the food situation. He opens the fridge to find two half empty bottles of wine, an egg carton with only one egg, and half an onion. It’s, not promising. To the grocery store he must go. He tells himself he’ll call Louis when he returns. Once he’s done with dinner.

He fills the cats’ bowls with their dinner, then slips on his jacket, and sees his keys aren’t on the hook by the door. He thinks a moment and when he still can’t remember where he’s placed them, he snaps his fingers and they jingle in his jacket pocket. He’s grateful Frances isn’t around to witness this. Then, he leaves the house and unlocks his white, Volkswagen Polo, before climbing in the front seat.

The nearest grocery store is Crosby’s Marketplace in the town next over, though it’s only a three minute drive.

In no time Harry’s stood in the produce section, basket draped over his arm, and carefully selecting an avocado or two. It’s only when he rounds the corner to pick out some sausages, does someone call out to him.

He turns to glance over his shoulder to find Louis heading his way, completely abandoning his cart, giving him a wave and smiling happily at him. Harry’s reflex is to smile and wave right back.

When Louis reaches him, he places his hands on his hips and says, “We have got to stop meeting like this.”

Harry still can’t believe he just left his cart unattended. Despite the lack of people in the store. “You’re a brave man leaving your cart alone like that.” He uses his free hand to gesticulate in the cart’s general direction. “What if someone walked by, saw what was in there and it was exactly everything they came for?”

Louis shrugs. “They’d get their shopping done in under half the time. Plus, it’s not like I’ve bought anything yet.”

“I suppose,” Harry supposes, keeping one eye on the cart anyways. Just in case.

Louis leans close to take a peek into Harry’s basket. Close enough that Harry catches a hint aftershave.

“Let’s see. Two avocados. Basil. Some zucchini. Cherry tomatoes, and,” he looks up at Harry, “I’m sorry, what are those?”

Harry holds his gaze a moment before breaking away. “Roasted pine nuts. It’s for the pesto.”

Louis quirks a brow. Amused. “You know you can buy that pre-made. I’m sure they have it here.”

Harry laughs. “I know. But I like it fresh, and, it’s quite easy to make. I bet even you could do it, once we get you preheating the oven.”

This time it’s Louis who laughs. His eyes crinkle, and Harry feels a sense of pride at being the one who put the crinkles there.

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down there,” Louis fixes his fringe. “I’m still learning how to not watch the pot while boiling water.”

Harry rubs his nose, endeared. “A good place to start.”

The two hold one another’s gaze for a beat, and then Harry clears his throat. “Well it was nice seeing you.” His voice trails as he runs his free hand through his hair, trying not to roll his own eyeballs at himself.

“Yeah,” Louis agrees. His brows furrow and it feels like he’s about to say something else.

When he doesn’t, Harry scuffs the floor with his right boot before pointing awkwardly to a random isle. “I’ll uh, yeah.” He turns on his heel and begins to walk away. Sausages forgotten.

“Harry-” Louis calls, and Harry freezes. His heart thumping loudly. He spins back around. Louis continues, “Are uh, you busy tonight? I was just going to make some mac and cheese or something. Could use some supervision in the kitchen.” Louis shrugs, appearing casual.

Harry’s nodding before Louis even finishes asking, “Yeah, erm, I mean no. I’m not busy.” He’s probably coming off as a little eager, but, he finds when Louis is smiling at him he doesn’t mind so much. “I’d be happy to supervise.”

Louis claps his hands together. “Great. Okay. Why don’t you come over after you’re done shopping? Mine’s to the left of Niall’s on Pleasant Street. Number twelve.”

“Twelve. Got it.” Harry notes the address. “Need me to bring anything?”

Louis shakes his head. “Nope.”

As Harry walks away and turns down an aisle he tells himself he’s just being kind. Neighborly even. That Louis is new to town, and Harry’s only trying to be welcoming. Friendly.

His heart knows he’s a damn liar.

  


Three years ago Harry was on a night out with Niall and Gemma in Salem. It was at one of Harry’s personal favorite haunts, a cafe called Gulu Gulu. The three were sat at a corner table, enjoying the cafe’s eclectic and delicious selection of drinks. Occasionally, Gulu Gulu will have live music, and they did on that particular night. A solo performer by the name of Matty, with his floppy curly hair, and a guitar strapped over his shoulder. He played on the small provided stage. He was good. Talented, if not a little pretentious from his stories between songs. Harry thought he was interesting, and nice to look at. His brown eyes inviting. Matty clearly felt similarly. After his set he bought Harry a drink and asked if he could join the table for a little while. He and Harry got to talking, but it didn’t take long for them to disappear downstairs to the bathroom. Locking the door behind them as they quickly got one another off.

Matty was from Boston, and was trying to make a name for himself. He played at local bars and restaurants around eastern Massachusetts. Harry would go to some of his shows in the city, sometimes the others would join him. Though Niall would sometimes attend, he never really warmed up to Matty. Harry never understood why. It was just fun. They weren’t dating. They certainly weren’t in love. The two of them were on the same page about that. They were just light, casual, and hooking up. And it was good.

Matty eventually put together a band and spent some time recording. It wasn’t until he returned to Gulu Gulu, with his band in tow, that Niall’s suspicions of Matty’s character were confirmed. Harry invited all his friends, as did Gemma, for Matty’s big return to the Gulu Gulu stage. When he neared the end of his set, he announced a new song, and spoke of its inspiration. The song was called, “The Curse of Being Lonely.”

Though Matty never said Harry’s name. He didn’t have to. The song detailed the life of a soul who didn’t believe true love could exist, so they were cursed to live a life of loneliness. Harry was mortified. What was worse, Matty didn’t seem to think he’d done anything wrong. He viewed the song as an homage instead of an insult.

Harry was embarrassed, hurt, and admittedly devastated. He may not have been in love with Matty, but he cared for him. And, they had fun together. It had been good. The sex was really good. And, for some time, Harry didn’t feel so alone. He knew deep down somewhere it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. But for the first time he didn’t feel like the Curse on him and his family had won.

After that night, though. Harry learned his lesson. He wouldn’t tempt fate a second time. He told Matty he wouldn’t be seeing him again, and never looked back.

  


Now on his way to Louis’, by bicycle, with a bottle of wine in his basket, he feels a stirring inside his chest. Something he’s never felt. Like hope and something else he can’t quite put his finger on. He tells himself to immediately knock it off, because doesn’t he remember what happened last time? But there’s a determination in his heart that wasn’t there before. A pull and a tug as if to say it isn’t the same. It won’t be. Harry determinately ignores it.

He arrives at number twelve Pleasant Street, and notices that next door, Niall’s car isn’t in his driveway. He breathes a sigh of relief and parks his bike against Louis’ front steps. Grabbing the wine he takes the stairs and rings the bell.

He hears footsteps approach, and his heart begins to pound again. He reminds himself one last time to relax and then the door swings open. Louis greets him with a smile. He glances down at the bottle in Harry’s arms and laughs, “I told you, you didn’t need to bring anything!”

“You said you didn’t need me to. But I wanted to.” He shifts his weight. “It’s like a housewarming present.”

Louis shakes his head, eyes blinking closed for a moment. “Fair enough.” And then moves aside to invite Harry in.

The first thing Harry notices is how warm and cozy it is inside compared to the chilly October evening. Louis offers to take the bottle from him, which allows Harry to slip off his jacket and toe off his shoes. He looks for a place to hang his coat when Louis calls out from the kitchen. “You can put your coat on the boxes stacked by the door. Sorry I’m not fully unpacked yet!”

Harry drapes his coat on a box labeled, “Living Room,” and wanders in, making his way to the kitchen. Eyes taking in some of the items framed on the wall. There’s a poster of Green Day’s “Dookie,” beside what Harry is pretty sure is a portrait of Louis’ family. A gorgeous woman with bright eyes and long waves of sandy brown hair sits in a chair, smiling. Surrounded by three beautiful young girls, with another one sat on her lap. A slightly younger looking Louis is standing behind her, arm around her shoulder. His eyes are crinkling. He looks so much like his mother.

Louis catches him staring at the portrait. “That’s us. My mother and all my sisters.”

Harry’s face heats as he meets Louis’ eyes. “It’s a nice portrait.”

Louis has apparently already opened the wine, and now holds two glasses. He extends one to Harry who gratefully accepts. “Your mother is quite beautiful.” He admits, omitting how similar Louis’ eyes and smile are to hers.

“Oh, she’ll love that,” Louis says after he has a sip of his wine. “I’m hungry. Are you ready to make some mac ‘n cheese?”

Harry holds up his pointer finger. “I was told I would only be supervising.”

After about five minutes in the kitchen, once Louis has pulled out all the ingredients and cooking necessities, Harry ends up taking over. Frustrated at watching Louis struggle. Though from the way Louis easily handed over the reigns, he wonders if it wasn’t all just a clever rouse.

Louis hops up on the counter, legs gently swinging, while Harry drains the pasta and proceeds to melt the butter in the pan. He’s telling Harry a story about his first week at Buker Elementary.

“-and then one of my students, an adorable little girl, introduced me to the Gym teacher, Mr. Payne. And I thought she might have been making a joke. Like, Mr. Pain. Because he was a Gym teacher that made them run around and what-not. But no, that’s his real last name. And I made an absolute ass of myself, on day four of my new job.”

Harry adds milk to the melted butter and cackles. “What exactly did you say?”

Louis shrugs, laughing himself, “I told her it wasn’t nice to call people names. But was promptly informed Payne was indeed his last name by both my student, and Liam. Ugh, after the student left I obviously apologized. But, yeah. It wasn’t a good start.”

Harry rips open the powdered cheese and mixes until it’s smooth and creamy. “That’s bad, but it’s not like the worst thing.”

Louis interrupts. “Oh and I took his chair at the lunch table. Fionn invited me to join him, and I apparently sat in the wrong seat.”

Harry shakes his head. “Before or after you insulted Liam’s last name?”

Louis eyes widen as he gives Harry a playful slap to the shoulder. “Rude. And, after.”

“Listen,” Harry lifts the strainer full of pasta from this sink, giving it a final shake before adding it to the very unnaturally orange cheese mixture. “Liam’s a good person. Besides Niall, he’s my oldest friend. And since you teach at the school, I’m going to just assume you already have been informed about my family and our history in this town.”

Louis nods, but he does it bashfully. A hand reaching to scratch at the back of his neck. “Yeah. A few have mentioned it.”

Harry continues, certain his face is flushed, now that it’s out in the open Louis knows what he is. “It wasn’t always easy for my family here. For a long time we were blamed for everything bad that ever happened in Wenham. By the time I began to grow up here, it wasn’t so terrible, though many were still a little leery of us. But, Niall and Liam never were. Liam especially. He never treated me any different despite me being a witch, even though he didn’t understand it. He’s got a good heart.”

Louis hands him two bowls, and Harry begins to dole out the finished meal. He didn’t mean to make this about himself, or get so serious. He takes a sip of his wine hoping to drown his embarrassment, and then hands Louis a now full bowl. “Liam likes his routine, and he likes his structure, but I’m sure he’ll come around.”

Louis has two spoons in his hands and offers Harry one. “We did have a moment over the Ninja Turtles last night.” He hops off the counter and picks up his drink.

Harry raises his glass and gently taps his to Louis’. “See? It’s already happening.”

Then Louis suggests they dine in the living room. “I’m sorry, I haven’t set up the dining room table and chairs yet. But the couch and TV are, so, hope you don’t mind if we eat in there.”

Harry chuckles when Louis grimaces. “I get it. Priorities.”

Louis sits on one end of the couch, Harry takes the other. “Right? I need my Thursday night Friends fix.”

Harry takes a bite, then asks, “Who’s your favorite?” He really hopes Louis isn’t going to say Ross. Because he will judge him.

“Probably Chandler.”

Harry nods, relieved.

“What about you? Who’s your favorite?”

Harry’s favorite is Monica. But since it was just revealed her and Chandler are an item now, he feels a little too vulnerable if he were to say so. Instead, he says, “Joey.” Seems a little more safe.

They talk about the series while they finish up their dinners. Harry almost snorting wine out of his nose while Louis does an impression of Ross. Both agreeing he is the most annoying character on the show.

After the mac ‘n cheese is gone, and so is their wine, Louis holds his empty glass, focusing on it quite intensely.  Their conversation has died down, and there’s something about the air. It feels heavy. Harry can sense Louis is about to say something, but he’s not sure what. He doesn’t have to wait much longer, before Louis is glancing his way.

“I don’t mind either. You know.”

Harry doesn’t know. It must show on his face.

“About you, and your family. Being a witch, I mean. It doesn’t matter to me.”

He looks so earnest about it. His face soft, and kind. He fixes his fringe, and Harry notes this is something Louis seems to do a lot. Fixing his hair. Harry wonders if it’s a nervous thing.

“Thank you.” Harry replies, wishing he had something more elegant to say. The moment feels weighted, and Harry aims to lighten it. “Well it doesn’t matter to me that you’re mother is a super model. So we’re even I suppose.”

This earns Harry the lone pillow on the sofa being tossed at his face.

When he leaves, after assisting in cleaning up the kitchen, he grabs his bicycle from beside the stairs, and spots Niall’s car in his driveway.  Knowing Niall, he’s definitely seen Harry’s bike. This is confirmed when he arrives home. The little red light flashing on his answering machine. Beeping at him. With a point of Harry’s finger at it, begins to play.

“ _Harry! It’s Nialler. Saw your ride over at Louis’. Wondering where my invite was. Love you_.”

Harry brings the palm of his hand to his face and laughs. Niall absolutely was not wondering where his invite was. They both know this. Harry has half a mind to call him up and tell him it’s not what it looks like. He’s a grown man. He can spend time with a friend, one on one, if he wants. But something stops him. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t need to defend his actions, he’s done nothing wrong. But his heart knows it’s because if he called Niall, he’d be telling him a lie.

He doesn’t call. 

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be posted next Friday. Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Throughout the following week, Harry and Louis solidify their plans for the weekend to take a day trip to Salem. Harry double and triple checks with the others to see if they changed their minds. The answer being a resounding no.

When the day finally arrives, Harry picks Louis up at his house on Pleasant Street, bright and early Saturday morning. He’s got two hot teas to-go from the Wenham Tea House in his car. Louis’ excitement is tangible from the moment he steps outside. Too excited to even bother buttoning up his jacket, it would seem.  Louis has a pep in his step as he hops down his front stairs in fitted jeans with rips at the knees and bounds towards Harry’s Volkswagen. He’s also sporting a black beanie, causing his fringe to make a swoop across his forehead. 

Louis climbs in, greeting Harry with a big, cheery grin. Practically vibrating while he begins to buckle himself.

Harry lifts up one of the teas for Louis, handing it to him when he’s all settled. “I went with Ginger Lemon. Hope that’s okay.”

Louis accepts it, smiling bright. “It’s perfect. I love ginger anything.”

This is another thing Harry has noted. He of course, keeps that to himself. He flicks on his blinker, pulls back onto the street and begins the short drive to the Commuter Rail station. “Ginger Ale?”

“Yep!” Louis answers popping the “p.”

Harry raises a brow, quickly flicking a glance over to the passenger seat as he questions, “Pickled Ginger?”

Louis laughs. “Okay. I don’t love it. I like it, but, I don’t love it. You got me.”

They arrive at the station shortly before the train. Giving them a few minutes to finish their teas. There are at least a dozen or so others waiting on it as well. One pair dressed as stereotypical witches. Pointy black hats and all. Harry gently pokes Louis in the shoulder after tossing their empty paper tea cups in a bin. Once Harry has his attention, he leans in close to whisper, “I wonder where those two are off to this morning?”

Louis follows Harry’s gaze, and Harry watches how his eyes widen. He turns back to Harry, and then looks down at his own outfit. “Am I in the wrong attire?” He’s playing it off as a joke, but Harry can tell he’s actually concerned. 

Harry pats him on the arm, and shakes his head. “You’re fine.” 

Louis appears to remain unconvinced. He starts to button up his jacket, drawing Harry’s attention to the low scoop of his sweater. His collarbones are showing, and Harry thinks he might see some ink scripted there. He wonders what it says, but doesn’t ask.

The train approaches, and soon they’re sat on the purple benches of the MBTA Commuter Rail. 

Louis has the window seat. He doesn’t have his nose pressed against the window, but he’s quite close to it. Harry finds himself watching Louis take in the scenery. He also finds that being here with all of Louis’ excitement is sort of infectious. As the train nears Salem, Harry’s excitement only grows. He hasn’t been a tourist there since Gemma moved to Salem years ago. He’s been to Salem since, of course, but, he hasn’t taken part in the Halloween Circus that is the month of October in a long time.

The Salem stop is announced over the crackly loudspeaker, and along with Harry and Louis, most of the people in the car exit the train. Including the pair dressed as witches from earlier. 

It’s only a few minutes walk from the platform to their first destination. Essex Street. The hub of all things Tourist during October. As they near Essex, the crowds of people increase, as do the amount of costumes. Harry and Louis round the corner from Washington Street onto Essex, nearly bumping into a Zombie who’s getting his picture taken. Harry apologizes, though the Zombie is nonplussed. He smiles and says to both Harry and Louis in a cheery tone, “Have a horrible day!”

The two share a laugh and continue on their way. 

Essex Street is closed off to vehicles, which allows both sides of it to be lined with white tents. Numerous different vendors have claimed their spot to sell their various knick knacks and merchandise. Crowds clump and attempt to peruse them at their leisure.

It only takes a few steps down the crowded street for Harry to regret his choice of footwear, however. His heeled velvet chelsea boots are not ideal on the old uneven cobblestone of Essex. He stumbles, bumping into Louis twice as they approach the first vendor. Louis turns to look at him, placing a steadying hand on Harry’s shoulder after the second time. “You okay there Bambi?” 

Harry absolutely does not blush, because that would be ridiculous. “I’m good.”

Louis pats him on the shoulder, and steps under the white tent. Harry follows suit. Dozens of glittery witches hats, and headbands with cat’s ears, for sale every which way. A few people are already looming around under it as well, giving the different items a try. Some of the designs are quite tacky. He’s about to tell Louis as much. But then Louis is placing a sparkly black headband with furry cat ears on his head, while having traded his beanie for a black and green striped witch's hat dipped in color corresponding glitter.

Louis gives Harry a considering look. “I think it suits you.”

Harry desperately tries to appear unimpressed, however it’s difficult when he notices there’s a sash streaming from the top of Louis’ hat. He blinks slowly and shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “How come I gotta be the cat?”

Louis shrugs, “It’s a costume. You can’t dress up as something you already are. What’s the fun in that?”

Harry nods with a chuckle. “Fair enough.” He goes to remove the headband, figuring the joke is over, but Louis grabs his wrists before he has the chance. Harry freezes on the spot.

“Nope. We’re keeping these on. I already bought them. When in Salem, and all that.”

Louis is slow to release Harry’s wrists, and Harry thinks it’s probably because he’s worried Harry will try to take the headband off again. 

“Okay.” Harry says. “When in Salem, and all that.” 

This passifies Louis. When Harry’s hands are freed a moment later, the two meander down the cobblestone to see what other overpriced and tacky souvenirs they can find. Harry promises to buy one for Louis to pay him back for the ears. 

An hour later, Louis has two bags stuffed full. Harry carrying the third. Shirts that say “Witch City,” in varying sizes for his mother and sisters, along with some jewelry, hand crafted wooden kitchen utensils, and halloween decor.

They each get their faces painted. Harry sticks with the cat theme, getting a nose and some whiskers added to his face. While Louis is indecisive and asks the woman to surprise him. She gives him silver and black cobwebs around his eyes, and Harry’s left wondering if Louis’ eyelashes have always seemed that long.  When the woman announces she’s all finished with Louis, he glances up at Harry and asks how he looks.

Harry swallows rather dumbly. He tries to play it off as a joke when he eventually replies, “Like a pretty, pretty Flower.” 

Louis gets up from the chair with a laugh recognizing the reference. “How long have you been waiting to use that?” He pokes at Harry’s side. 

Harry laughs, relieved, and swats his hand away. “Since you called me Bambi.”

Louis places his hands on his hips and bats his eyelashes. “Well. You can call me Flower, if you want to. I don’t mind."

“Ugh,” Harry rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance. Because of course Louis can recite lines from the film back to him. Beating Harry at his own game. He picks up the bags for something to do with his hands, shoving two of them at Louis’ chest. Louis is still laughing as he takes them. Harry grabs bag number three and the two keep walking onward. 

At one point they reach a stand selling mood rings, and Louis tells Harry it’s imperative they each get one.

Louis picks one up and puts his middle finger through it. They both watch as the black gem turns blue. “It changes color based on your mood, Harry.”

Harry slips the one he just purchased onto his thumb and giggles. “Thank you, Louis. I do understand the premise.” He looks at the color chart it comes with while he waits for his gem to change. Noting Louis’ blue gem and reads aloud, “Blue. Normal, optimistic, accepting, calm, peaceful, pleasant.” 

Louis smiles as he receives his change from the woman selling the rings. “Sounds about right.”

As they walk away Harry snorts and tucks his chart in his back pocket. “Funny, I was going to say yours might be broken. Think you should return it. Ask for a refund.”

“Ha. Ha.” Louis grabs Harry’s hand with the mood ring on his thumb, lifting it to eye level. He examines it for a moment, then refers to the chart. “Hmm. Interesting.”

Harry scoffs. This ought to be good.

“ _ Very  _ interesting.” 

“What?” Harry pulls his hand from Louis’ grip, laughing. He flicks his gaze to the ring, and then back to Louis. Who is smiling, though his lips are closed. 

Louis shrugs. “Well, it would appear your ring is a blue-green. Is it not?”

Harry inspects it, and agrees. “It is.”

“Well, according to the chart here, that means you’re feeling upbeat, pleased, somewhat relaxed, motivated, and,” Louis pauses for dramatic effect, “ _ flirtatious _ .” 

Harry scoffs a second time, and covers the ring with his other hand. Feeling exposed. His face heats probably giving him away. “Mine is definitely broken then.”

Louis laughs, covering his mouth with his hand. His witchy hat glistening in the late morning sun.

Harry notices Louis’ ring turns blue-green as well, but doesn’t comment on it.   
  


By the time lunch rolls around, both Harry and Louis have worked up quite the appetite from all their walking and shopping. Harry suggests the Howling Wolf Taqueria. “It’s about a five minute walk from here. Best Mexican grub around. Plus, it’s likely to be slightly less busy.”

“I could go for a margarita,” Louis agrees.

As they round the corner and make their way down Lafayette Street, Harry points out the tell tale red wolf sign. The crowd doesn’t disappear, but it does thin out. The Howling Wolf is busy when they walk in, but it’s only a few minutes wait before they’re seated at a high top table for two. 

Once the waiter takes their order, followed by their menus, and walks away, Harry gets a funny feeling in his stomach. There’s a rare moment of quiet shared between he and Louis after the waiter leaves. Though it doesn’t last long, it’s long enough for Harry to notice it. It’s long enough for Harry’s stomach to feel as though it suddenly houses several butterflies. 

Louis breaks the quiet.

“Thanks for today.” He looks genuinely sincere, but he’s still wearing his pointy witch hat with his face still painted. And so, the sentiment feels more adorable than it should.

Harry coughs into his fist, clearing his throat. “Yeah, no worries. It’s been fun.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks, almost as if he’s been concerned about this.

Harry quickly reassures him. “Yeah, definitely.” 

Relief washes over Louis’ features, and the butterflies in Harry’s stomach flutter. 

“I know it’s probably like boring, and silly for you,” Louis delicately touches at his fringe, “But I’ve had the absolute best time.”

Harry wonders if this is what a date feels like, then immediately mentally swats the thought away.

The waiter brings them their margaritas, and Harry raises his glass towards Louis. “When in Salem, and all that.”

Louis smiles, and it’s directed at the table. But Harry sees it, and bites down on the one he’s forming in response. The two cheers and sip their drinks.

Harry briefly registers both of their mood rings are now a soft pink. He’s not sure if he wants to check and see what that means.

While they tackle their meals, the drinks flow, as does the conversation. The two swap embarrassing tales from their childhoods, and delve into their mutual love of animals. It’s all quite light hearted and fun. 

Harry’s in stitches over Louis telling about a time when he was seven and playing his very first soccer game. How he was on defense and the ball came at him in the air and on reflex caught it with his hands. 

“It’s the body’s natural response to an object flying towards your head!” Louis defends.

Harry offers a story in return about the time he borrowed Gemma’s broom. 

“I didn’t have one of my own yet. But I was so eager to fly, I took hers one night without asking. And, as I soon found out, brooms can be a little stubborn. I tried to take it for a spin around the lake, but as soon as I got a few feet in the air, it stalled. Similar to a car. Almost sputtering, and before I knew it, I landed bum first in the sand.”

Louis laughs, his eyes twinkling. “Do you have your own broom now?”

Harry takes a sip of his margarita. “I do.” He laughs at the way Louis doesn’t bother hiding his excitement at hearing this. “Let me guess, you want to go for a ride on it sometime, don’t you?”

“I mean.” Louis’ face flushes. “I certainly wouldn’t say no.”

After they finish up their meal and Louis pays, despite Harry’s insistence they split it, they head back outside in the late afternoon sun with all of Louis’ bags in tow. 

While they walk, Harry can’t help the feeling through his slightly drunk addled brain that this feels like a date. Like maybe a proper date. Like maybe it wouldn’t be completely outrageous if they held hands. The butterflies make themselves known again at the thought of linking fingers with Louis. He shakes his head at himself and blames the alcohol.

Louis tells Harry while they walk back towards Essex Street he’s good to return to Wenham if Harry is. Harry, selfishly, is not quite ready to end this. Whatever this is. So he quickly thinks of an idea.

He finds one. And it’s definitely a good one. He smiles. “We have to make one last stop before we leave.” 

“I’m listening.”

Ten minutes later Harry is standing in front of a house with a white picket fence facing Louis, arms outstretched, singing, “Ta-da!”

He tries to be patient while he watches as realization dawns on Louis. He sees the moment Louis recognizes the house behind him. 

“It’s the girl’s house from Hocus Pocus!”

Harry smiles wide, pleased. “Yep! Allison’s. We can take a stroll through the garden if you want. It’s open to the public as part of a walking tour.”

Louis nods eagerly, “Yes! Please. Let’s.”

So they do. 

They walk under an arch and down a few steps leading into a beautifully designed garden. Though the cool October has arrived, many of the flowers are clinging to their bloom before the frost. 

A few others are also walking through, taking pictures on a disposable camera. Harry is immediately envious and wishes he’d had the foresight to purchase one for today. He wants to remember the way Louis looks in that silly, tacky, and overpriced hat. He wants to preserve the artwork from that woman who painted silver cobwebs on Louis’ face. He wishes he’d been able to snap a picture of Louis sitting still while she worked- his eyes closed, face tilted upwards towards the sun. Harry wants to document how Louis’ eyes are lighting up now as they make their way through the garden, around the infamous Ropes Mansion. Because they’re friends. Of course. As a friend, he wants to hold onto these moments.

His heart pounds  _ liar, liar _ .

Louis loops his arm through Harry’s, causing Harry to put his thoughts on hold. Louis does it so casually. So effortlessly. As if it’s something completely normal and natural for them. As if it’s something he and Harry have done many a time before.  As if they haven’t only met two weeks ago. Harry doesn’t comment on this. He tells himself maybe it’s just how Louis is with all of his friends. Maybe he’s just a tactile sort of person. 

They stay arm in arm throughout the rest of the stroll through the garden. They stay arm in arm on their walk back to Essex Street and to the Commuter Rail. Separating only when it’s time for them to climb aboard. 

When they arrive back at the Hamilton- Wenham stop and climb into the Volkswagen, Harry realizes he never ended up buying Louis a souvenir to repay him for his cat ears.

“It’s fine.” Louis laughs. 

Harry is bordering on distraught. Louis bought him the cat ears, and dinner. He feels like he’s not holding up his end of things. He relays this out loud.

Louis shakes his head. “It’s honestly fine. You drove, you bought me tea this morning.”

Harry rolls his eyes. Louis continues, counting on his fingers. “Okay, also, you’ve given me free tea. You’ve brought over wine as a housewarming gift, and you’ve made dinner. If you really want to compare notes. I mean, I think we’re pretty even stevens.” 

Harry sees Louis shrug out of the corner of his eye when he’s finished rattling off his list.

“Okay.” Harry relents.

There’s a smile in Louis’ voice when he says, “But-”

Harry snorts, “But what?”

“But if you really wanted to make it up to me, a ride around the lake on that fancy broom of yours sometime would definitely do the trick.”

At this Harry lets out a loud cackle. When he settles himself, he answers, “Maybe.”   
  


Not long after, he drops Louis off at his house, and then heads home himself.  When he arrives home, he takes off his coat and boots. He feeds his cats and sorts through the mail. And that’s when he looks down at his hand and sees his mood ring. It’s blue. Nice, normal, pleasant, blue. He remembers both his and Louis were pink earlier. He takes the folded chart out of his back pocket, against his better judgment, and decides to read what that color means. Though something tells him he already knows.

Pink. Very happy. Warm. Affectionate. Loving. Infatuated. Curious.

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. New chapter will be up next Friday.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds out that perhaps he's not the only one with eyes for Louis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psst. A much overdue update. With October arriving I've got a little something up my sleeve. Here you go! Enjoy! And thanks for reading <333

Tuesday rolls around, and it’s a long day at work.

The closer to Halloween it gets, the more active Blossoms & Blends becomes. Not surprising, as it’s an Apothecary run by an actual witch, in the Salem area, no less.

Jesy comes in sometime after her shift at the Tea House, and asks for twenty four of several different items. Salves, loose leaf satchels, teas, and oils. Every year she and her friends put on a big Halloween Bash. They take turns hosting, and, apparently this year it’s her turn. She tells him she wants to go all out. Party favors and everything.

“You are more than welcome to come, Harry.” She smiles excitedly extending an invite, as she and her friends do every year, and Harry knows the offer is genuine. “You can even bring along some of your cute friends, too.” She winks.

“I see how it is,” Harry teases, filling up the last of her bags. “Using me for my attractive friends.”

She shrugs. “Can you blame me?”

Harry supposes not. “I’ll give them the invite, but I make no promises.” Though he knows if they’re free they will most certainly be there, as they have in years past.

“It’s all I’m asking.” Jesy takes three of the five bags from the counter, Harry offering to carry the other two to her car.

“So what’s that new kindergarten teacher’s deal? He’s cute.” Jesy pries, her tone suggesting neutrality. Harry knows better.

They reach her car, and after she unlocks it and opens the back seat, she begins stuffing the bags she’s holding in her arms inside of it. Eventually taking the two from Harry.

Harry clears his throat. “Erm, I don’t know what you mean.”

Jesy pauses, straightens, and raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him. “I’m going to pretend like I can’t recall the time you practically sprinted out of the Tea House without paying to return him his scarf.”

Harry’s face reddens as he laughs. “You’re doing a horrible job of it, by the way.”

“So?” She persists as if he hadn’t spoken. “What’s his deal. I know you’re friends. You two went to Salem last weekend.”

Harry did not tell her that. “How did you-?”

At the same time they both say, “Niall.”

She says it matter of factly, while Harry’s tone suggests resignation. They share a laugh.

“All the boys and girls at the Tea House want to know if he’s single. Maybe looking to mingle?”

She nudges her elbow into Harry’s side, and gives him a suggestive wink. He should laugh. He should think it’s funny. He should make a return joke that rhymes. Maybe call Louis a single pringle or something. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t do any of those things.

Instead, he sort of stands there. An almost frown forming on his face, and an unpleasant feeling stirring in his belly. Jesy doesn’t notice. Too busy closing the door to the backseat of her car. For this, Harry is grateful.

“Thanks again, Harry.” Jesy says opening the driver’s seat and climbing in casually, as if she hasn’t just poked at some sort of sleeping creature inside of him. “Hope to you see you and all your friends at my party. It’s gonna be wicked.”

Not a moment later, she takes off. Harry waves. He doesn’t doubt it for a moment.

 

When Harry gets home from work, he’s exhausted, and decides he’s going to treat himself to a nice, hot, lavender and rose petal bath. First though, he feeds the cats.

He’s about to walk up the stairs to the second floor, but sees the blinking red light on his answering machine, followed by the sound of the familiar beep. With a wave of his hand it begins to play.

“ _Harry, it’s your favorite sister calling. Heard you were in Salem last weekend. Didn’t think to let your big sister know you were in town? Would have loved to meet up with you and your new friend. Louis is it? Call me.”_

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. Did Niall send a memo to every person in Massachusetts about his excursion to Salem with Louis? Nothing even happened. As far as Harry is aware, it was just an outing between friends. Why is Niall making this such a big deal?

He sighs and trudges back down the stairs. He’s going to return his sister’s call before he takes a bath, otherwise he won’t be able to fully relax. He tries not to think about what that means.

Gemma answers on the third ring.

“Brother, I’ve been expecting your call.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Hello Gems.”

“Got my message I presume?” There’s a playful hint in her tone, Harry doesn’t appreciate it.

He snorts. “Obviously.”

They spend about five minutes catching up, before Gemma mentions last Saturday. Honestly, Harry is impressed she waited that long.

“I can’t believe I had to find out from Niall you were in town.” She states, and Harry can feel what this is building up to. Where it’s leading.

He’s begun to pace around the living room. Jet watching from the window sill, and Frances trying to weave in and out of his legs. “It’s really not like a big deal. Louis just moved here and said he’d like to go. So we went. It wasn’t anything special. Just a day trip.”

Gemma doesn’t really buy it. “Okay, but you never come to Salem this time of year. I’ve invited you plenty of times to come and watch the tourists with me. And it’s always excuse after excuse. But, suddenly this new guy with pretty blue eyes shows up and you manage to come and spend an afternoon?”

Harry doesn’t bother asking how she knows he has blue eyes. “I just was trying to be friendly. He’s new around here, and wanted to go. I don’t understand why I’m getting the third degree for showing someone new around Salem.”

He hears his sister take a deep breath, and exhale. “Niall saw your bicycle at his house a couple weeks ago.”

Harry swallows. “Yeah? And?”

“And, I’m just worried about you.”

The part where she doesn’t want what happened with Matty to happen again goes unsaid.

Harry’s first reaction is to become defensive, but he takes a breath and softens. “You don’t have to be.”

Just then a beep comes through the line. Someone’s on call waiting. Harry asks Gemma to hold on a minute. Could be their mother, or Grandmother checking in.

“Hello?”

“Harry!” It’s neither. Harry clutches the phone with both his hands and can tell Louis is smiling on the other end. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

He already knows he’s probably going to say yes to whatever it is, but humors him anyways. “Ask away.”

He hears a deep breath through the phone speaker. “My mother and sisters are coming to visit this weekend, and, well you’ve seen my place. It’s still not unpacked. And I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind coming over sometime Thursday to help me get it settled?”

The thought of assisting in this process has Harry floating up off of the ground. Literally. He nods, “Of course.”

“You don’t mind?”

“No. Not at all. It’ll be fun!” Harry envisions the two of them sorting through boxes. Popping bubble wrap. Arguing over where to put the toaster.

Louis sounds relieved when he says, “Thank you so much. Niall suggested with you and the other boys’ help, it ought to only take a couple hours.”

At the mention of Niall and the other boys, Harry finds he’s sinking back down till his feet touch the floor again. He feels a little foolish for assuming it would just be the two of them. Of course the others would all be invited. “I’ll be there Thursday.” He promises. Then remembers what Gemma said only moments prior. Then remembers Gemma’s still on the other line. “I gotta go though, my sister’s waiting on the other line.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course. See you Thursday!”

Harry goes to click back over to Gemma and says, “Okay, maybe you’re right.”

“Wait, right about what?”

Harry freezes.

Apparently Louis didn’t hang up right away, and apparently Harry didn’t click back over to Gemma properly. He briefly removes the phone from his ear to stare at it in disbelief. He pulls it back towards him. “Erm. Right about it probably only taking a couple hours. Gotta go! Bye!”

He switches over, double checking he’s done it properly, and triple checks by asking, “Gemma, you still there?”

A sigh. “Yes. Still here.”

He decides on second thought to forgo admitting to Gemma she isn’t perhaps totally off course in worrying about him.

They wrap up their conversation, though Harry was only half paying attention anyways. Too distracted by his own concern for his feeling of disappointment after learning Louis hadn’t asked only him to help unpacking. He knows he shouldn’t care, and that’s what’s concerning him. He remembers the unpleasant feeling in his stomach from his earlier conversation with Jesy. How even the mere suggestion that other people in town might be interested in Louis had caused a frown to form in his face.

He furrows his brow when the name of the feeling dawns on him. Jealousy.

Which is strange, he’s never been the jealous type. Not even with any of the people he’s slept with, including Matty, who was never technically his boyfriend, but he was the one Harry saw the longest.

He resolutely decides not to think about it, and draws himself a bath. Baths cure everything. Especially hot lavender and rose petal baths. With a point of his finger, the record player situated on the top shelf in the bathroom turns on. Songbird begins to play. He absentmindedly wonders what Louis’ favorite song off of Rumors is, and promptly takes a deep breath and sinks low beneath the water.

 

*

After closing up shop on Thursday, Harry heads towards number twelve Pleasant Street, instead of his usual route home.

When he arrives, all of the lights inside are on, giving the house a warm glow from the outside. He glances at Niall’s house next door, which is dark and dreary in comparison. Niall’s definitely already there. He gives the front door a knock, and it swings open from the force of it.

While the house appears charming, with its glow from the outside, the inside is chaos. The boxes Harry remembers being stacked by the door the last time he was here are now in the center of the living room. Opened, with their contents spilling out onto the couch, the floor, and coffee table.

He catches a quick flash of someone darting around the corner carrying something large into the kitchen. Voices sound from that direction, so he follows.

He enters to find Tom and Fionn holding up the kitchen table while Louis directs them where to place it. Liam is in the corner assembling what he assumes are the chairs for it, and Niall is standing amidst it all holding a large box.

When Louis is satisfied with the placement of the table, Niall addresses him asking if this was the box he was looking for. Louis affirms and takes it from him gratefully.

Niall notices Harry first, but only because he turns around to exit out of the kitchen. He smiles, “Grab a box,” and pats him on the shoulder, then continues on his way.

The interaction seems to catch Louis’ attention, because not even a moment later Louis’ eyes are meeting Harry’s. Bright, blue, and sparkling.

“Harry!” He calls out happily amidst the chaos.

Harry feels his lips forming a smile in response, “Hi.”

Though the others are all moving about, emptying boxes, building and moving furniture, Harry momentarily forgets their presence. It’s as if it’s only just he and Louis. Their eyes locked on each other, Louis sporting a bright smile, Harry answering it with a dopey one of his own. He hasn’t seen Louis since their trip to Salem. And while it hasn’t even been a week- it’s only been five days, Harry finds he’s missed Louis.

Before he can dwell on what that might mean, Niall not so gently reminds him there’s work to be done by shoving a heavy box into Harry’s arms. Harry grunts at the sudden weight. “Here. Make yourself useful.” Niall chastises, the tone is his voice is teasing.

Harry glances down at the box in his hands sees the word books scribbled in sharpie on it, then back up at Louis and shrugs. “Guess I’ll…”

Louis nods and picks up where Harry left off, “Yeah.”

Harry spots a half assembled bookshelf in the corner of the living room and heaves himself and the box of books over towards it. He plops it down in front of the bookshelf and proceeds to do the same. He taps his nose twice with his pointer finger, and the bookshelf begins to finish assembling while he opens the box beside him.

Harry believes you can tell a lot about a person by their reading selection. He’s certain Leigh-Anne from the Library knows a secret or two about most of the people in both Wenham and Hamilton. He’s even more certain she’s picked up on the kind of books he himself likes to read, and what that says about him, though she’d never say.

So while he lifts each book out of the box, he can’t help but feel as though he’s trespassing on private territory. He notes titles such as A Beautiful Mind, Tuesdays with Morrie, and Into the Wild, as they appear. Leading him to believe Louis has a taste for nonfiction. The next book, Angela’s Ashes, cements his theory. It’s not all nonfiction though, he has a copy of Peter Pan, Roald Dahl’s Matilda, and a Dream Interpretation book. A sprinkling of whimsy as well then, Harry decides.

He looks up at the bookshelf and sees that it’s finished. “Beautiful.” He compliments it on a job well done. Next he points his finger at the book pile, and then toward the shelf. One by one the books start filing into the shelf, while he continues to pour over the rest of the books in the box. “Alphabetical by author’s last name please,” he reminds the books. Who shuffle themselves around while more books are added.

When he gets to the last book in the box he does a double take. It’s Fried Green Tomatoes. He remembers the Library’s copy of the movie still sitting by his VCR at home. Unwatched. And feels a small pang of guilt. This is quickly followed by an idea.

All of the books have now sorted themselves, and the shelf is nearly complete. Just waiting on the book in Harry’s hands. While he’s looking down at it, flipping the pages, and contemplating on whether to follow through with his idea, Louis walks by.

“You can borrow that if you like. It’s one of my favorites.”

Harry looks up to see Louis take some throw pillows out of a box and place them on the sofa.

“More pillows?” Harry asks incredulously, recalling a time not too long ago when one was thrown in his face.

Louis laughs, his eyes turning into slits, probably recalling the same moment. “More ammunition. I only had the one pillow, but it comes from a set of four. Best watch it, Curly.”

Outwardly, Harry snorts. Inwardly, however, the butterflies in his stomach are fluttering at the use of a nickname. He glances around at sees all the others are busy elsewhere. It’s just the two of them in the living room. His mouth decides now is the time to enact his idea. “Noted. And, about the book, thanks but, I actually read it quite recently.”

Louis stops fussing with the pillows, “Oh, yeah. No problem. Anytime.”

Harry nods and his mouth continues, “Have you seen the movie? I rented it from the Library, and haven’t watched it yet. You could come over sometime, and maybe we could, like, watch it together?”

“No,” Louis starts, and Harry deflates a little. Hoping it’s not too visible. “I mean, yes I’d love to come over and watch it with you,” Louis is laughing at himself, “because no, I haven’t seen it. Sorry.” and gives himself a facepalm, shaking his head.

Harry laughs in return, and begins to stand. Once upright he puts the book in the shelf, and as he dusts off his knees the book scuttles to its proper alphabetical location. “Oh, no worries. Cool.”

“I’m free tomorrow, my family won’t be here ‘till Saturday.” Louis suggests.

Harry thinks Leigh-Anne won’t be too upset if he returns it a day late. “Perfect. It’s a date.”

Louis smiles, and Harry’s about to correct himself, and say it’s not actually a date, unless maybe Louis wanted it to be a date, but even then with the curse, it shouldn’t be a date. Can’t be a date. He was just using it as a term of expression, but then Louis repeats him with a nod, “It’s a date.”

And, perhaps Louis was using it as a term of expression as well. And anyways, it’s too late to correct him now. Not while he’s standing there looking at Harry with crinkles around his blue eyes from the way his smile has taken over his face.

A loud thump comes from the kitchen, followed by Niall shouting “Liam, that almost landed on my foot!”

Louis points his thumb over his shoulder, “I should probably go see what that’s about.” He makes to turn for the kitchen and pauses, looking at the bookshelf, then back at Harry, “Thanks for putting that together by the way. It’s perfect.” He squints back at it again, “Is it in alphabetical order by author’s last name as well?”

Harry nods.

“Impressive.”

“Thanks.”

Another thump followed by another holler from Niall. Louis shoots Harry an apologetic look, then darts into the kitchen.

Harry busies himself with the task of cleaning up the boxes that have been emptied. He starts breaking one down and points at another box to follow suit.

Another two hours goes by and Louis’ house finally looks unpacked.

“I think we’ve done it, boys.” Louis says, giving Liam a pat on the back. “Thank you so much for helping I never would have gotten this all done by myself. How can i repay you all?”

Fionn has an easy answer ready, “No need. But if you feel compelled, we certainly wouldn’t turn down free beer next time you stop by.”

Louis laughs, “Consider it done.”

Harry remembers Jesy's invitation to her party and extends it to the group while they're all in one place. "Oh, also Jesy stopped by the store the other day, and it's her turn to host the big Halloween Bash this year. She says we're all invited."  

Niall practically crows. "Best part of October." He turns to Louis, "You're going to love it. It's the biggest party in town. You'll get to meet everyone."

Harry recalls Jesy's comments from that day, how " _all the boys and girls at the Tea House want to know if he's single. Maybe looking to mingle?"_ He tries not to frown and hopes no one notices.

It’s late, and a school night, so everyone eventually says their goodbyes, and makes their way home.

Harry says his goodbye last, the others all starting their trek home, save for Niall who is flipping off Liam and telling him he loves him, while crossing his lawn.

Harry’s on the front steps, lingering while Louis leans against doorway, and says, “Have a good night, Louis.”

Liam’s at the end of the driveway when he notices Harry hasn’t joined him, “You coming Harry?”

Harry nods, but doesn’t look away from Louis, “Yeah, be right there!”

Louis smiles, and responds quietly with a “See you tomorrow.”

This time it’s Harry who echoes Louis. “See you tomorrow.”

Suddenly tomorrow can’t come soon enough.


End file.
